


just another high school au

by geralehane



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-09-27 18:50:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20412610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geralehane/pseuds/geralehane
Summary: clarke asks lexa for a favor and gets way more than she's ever bargained for.





	just another high school au

**Author's Note:**

> im geralehane on tumblr

“No one can know about this,” Clarke pants. She’s really hoped for that warning to sound both convincing and intimidating, but she doubts she manages that with her hair tousled and her entire body covered in sweat. Why is there so much sweating involved? 

Lexa’s muted smirk is infuriating. “I made a promise before I agreed to this… arrangement, didn’t I?” The sun’s only starting to rise, and it’s hitting her  just right, painting her brown locks with auburn hues. Her skin, tan and sweaty, looks almost  golden, and Clarke suppresses a sigh which nature she’s not entirely sure about. 

“I’m not sure I can trust you,” she mutters. “After the things you’ve witnessed, I don’t blame you.” 

Lexa shrugs. “I’ve seen worse,” she tells her. “You weren’t that bad. Definitely lasted longer than I’ve thought.” 

“I barely ran one mile before dying,” Clarke objects. She honestly didn’t expect to be  this bad at this. 

“Yes,” Lexa nods, and her green eyes flash with something Clarke might call  encouragement  if they shared the type of a relationship that allowed for it. “But then you kept going.” 

“I guess my motivation is stronger than my inner saboteur,” she mutters. “Who, by the way, is super hungry. And sleep-deprived.” 

“You’re the one who insisted on meeting before dawn so people wouldn’t see us,” Lexa shrugs, looking completely unbothered. “Very mature, by the way.” 

“Just – don’t,” Clarke sighs again. She feels like she’s going to be doing that a lot. “Why did I ask you to help me, again?” 

“Because I’m the best athlete you know,” Lexa states, smugly. “And because of that crush I had on you in seventh grade that I’m pretty sure was reciprocated.” 

She’s glad she forgot to pack any water, because if she did she’d be gulping it down right now and that would’ve resulted in her spitting it all over Lexa’s face. Lexa’s stupid, smirking, annoyingly pretty face. “What? No it wasn’t!” Wait, no – not something she should be refuting. “I mean – what crush?”  Perfect, Griffin. Well done.

“It’s okay, Clarke,” Lexa says, and she’s never sounded this amused. This is the most emotion she’s ever showed around her, really, and she doesn’t know how she should feel about the fact that the emotion is  making fun of her . “You assumed I’d help you because of certain…  leftover feelings. While mistaken – and surprisingly manipulative – it  is clever. I can admire that.” 

Mistaken. Okay. “Well – maybe the thought did cross my mind,” she admits, grudgingly. “But if I was wrong,  why did you agree to help me?” 

“Because I like working out and I like coaching people, and I figured if you came to  me , you must be  really desperate.” Her eyes sparkle with a new shade of green under the chilly morning sun. “Although I don’t see any reason for you to stress over this. You have a great body.” 

“Tell that to my graduation dress,” Clarke huffs. She places her hands on her sides, but quickly shifts them down to her hips, hating the way it feels.  Soft.

Lexa’s braid falls over her shoulder as she cocks her head to the right, studying her. “I can’t claim to  know you, Clarke,” she says, evenly. “But you don’t strike me as a person who would be concerned with something so trivial.” 

Clarke doesn't exactly know what to say to that, so she settles for silently panting. Lexa nods, mostly to herself. “Tomorrow at my house,” she tells her as she starts to walk away. “I have a gym in my basement. We’ll do some weights.” With that, she turns and leaves, not looking back. When she rounds the corner, Clarke slides to the ground, groaning as she massages her sore thighs. 

Why did she think it was a good idea?

***

Lexa confirms what a terrible idea this has been when she tells her about  the diet. Or, as Lexa calls it, an eating regimen. Would it kill her to talk like a normal person once in a while? 

“No, Lexa,” she attempts to explain. “You don’t understand. I am going through this hell  specifically  so I don’t have to starve myself.” 

“You won’t  starve, don’t be ridiculous,” Lexa calmly states. “On the contrary, you’ll eat much better. And more. And it’ll be so much more filling and nutritious.” 

“Okay,  Herbalife , calm down,” she scoffs. “Again – why do I need to do that if I’m running several miles a day now?” 

“The number one weight loss rule is the calorie deficit,” Lexa replies. Clarke hates how put together she looks even after the workout session. Granted, what’s damn near impossible for her doesn’t make Lexa break a sweat, but still. “You need to burn more than you eat. But, since you’re getting much more daily exercise now than before, your appetite probably skyrocketed, and I’ve seen the food choices you make. You have to admit they are not healthy.” 

“Hey!” Clarke exclaims, more than a little insulted. “I ate a salad once, I’ll have you know.” 

The corners of Lexa’s lips twitch upward, and Clarke’s filled with a strange sense of accomplishment. She almost made her smile. On purpose. With a joke she  made , not by  being the joke. Although in the context it was  kind of the same thing, but – tomato, tomahto, or whatever. “Great. Then you’re familiar with the kind of food you’ll have to stick with for a month.” 

“A  month? ” Clarke widens her eyes in shock. “I’ll have to chew on leaves for a  month? ” 

“Leaves – no, Clarke -- ugh,” Lexa shakes her head. She looks both exasperated and amused. But, well, seems like she’s constantly amused around Clarke. She’s still not sure whether or not she should be seriously offended by that. “I made you a meal plan. You can give it to your mom – I know you don’t really cook.” Clarke doesn’t get the chance to ask how exactly she knows that, admittedly, true fact. “The recipes are really easy to follow, and I tried to change it up to suite your taste. There’s even a carb-free pizza.” She gives Clarke a simple black notebook that she brought with herself to the basement, which Clarke opens immediately, her brows raising when she sees Lexa’s surprisingly messy handwriting. It’s still legible, though. Clarke’s is definitely worse. 

Jesus Christ. She wrote an entire recipe book enough to last her a fucking  month. She wonders if that means the seventh grade crush is making a comeback. And wonders if she’s apprehensive or hopeful. “This is – Lexa, you’re amazing,” she tells her honestly, because come on. The girl spent hours writing this all down. She’s not a  complete bitch. “I really appreciate it. A lot. But I don’t think it’ll be much use. I’m sorry.” She sighs, wistfully, as she gives the notebook back to Lexa, whose expression grows unreadable. “It has nothing to do with us – I mean, like, the whole frenemies thing or whatever. It’s just… My mom doesn’t really have time to cook. She usually simply leaves money for groceries, and I buy hot pockets instead.” She doesn’t know why she’s telling this to Lexa, out of all people. Must be her unwavering stoic face. She gets nervous when she can’t understand a person’s reaction to her, and that leads to word vomit. “Um, but this is a very nice gesture, so thank you for that. I could, uh, I think I could try and follow the recipes, but I have a feeling I’d burn my kitchen down, and my mom would kill me, and then I definitely won’t make it to graduation so what’s the point of all this, really.” She falls silent when Lexa’s eyes flash with something akin to determination. 

“Okay.” She stands up from the bench, hands gripping the notebook. “Then I will cook for you.” 

“Uh,” Clarke grins, because – she couldn’t have heard what she just heard. “What?” 

“I’ll cook for you the night before our meeting, and you’ll take it home the next morning,” Lexa explains. Her tone is calm and even, like that of a patient teacher. “Breakfast, lunch, dinner, and healthy snacks.” 

“Lexa,” Clarke looks at her as if seeing her for the first time. Come to think of it, maybe she is. Or, perhaps, she’s seeing her in the light she did so many years ago, before the stupid rivalry and dumb high school cliques. “I can’t  possibly accept that.” 

“Why not?” Will she ever be  not calm? Clarke suddenly wants to see her rattled. Shaken. Wants to get under her skin the way she’s always failed to. 

“Because – well, for one, food costs money. I can’t ask you to pay for my food. And I’m not gonna give you money to cook for me, that just feels weird.” 

“It’s not a problem for me,” Lexa shrugs. “Father keeps the fridge stoked when he rarely eats at home. Either I share with you or it goes bad, like it usually does.” 

“Okay,” Clarke shakes her head, astonished she’s even entertaining the idea. “Okay, but – it’s weird, okay? My pride won’t survive this. It’s like you’re my – caretaker, or some shit. It’s too fucking weird.” 

“You swear a lot when you’re nervous,” Lexa observes with some muted curiosity. 

“No I don’t.” 

“Sure.” Green eyes study her in silence for several seconds. “Alright. How about this, then – I cook for both of us and invite you over for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. And at school you’ll opt for healthier options in the cafeteria. That way, it won’t be me cooking just for you. You’ll just be my… permanent guest.” 

“ Opt ,” Clarke chuckles, before she processes Lexa’s proposal, and her eyes grow wide. “But – that’s even weirder!” 

“You’re awfully concerned with the societal perception of weird.” 

“It’s not the societal perception, it’s  my perception. And I perceive it as strange. We barely look at each other at school and I’ll be spending days at your place?” 

Lexa’s face freezes, then. Briefly, just for a second, but enough to make Clarke question her choice of words. “Well. It’s either that, or you take the food I make you every day, or you keep eating the way you do now and never reach your goal. Or,” she cocks her head to the right, thinking. “Or, we run ten miles every day. I think that would be enough to produce the results you’re looking for.” 

Ten miles. Clarke’s out of breath just from hearing that said out loud. She’d probably die if she were to attempt actually doing that. And she’s not sure she’s joking. “Hell no. That’s – no. That’s a no from me.” She sighs, and looks at the notebook Lexa’s clutching to her chest. “It’s only for a month, right?” 

Lexa gives her a nod. She sighs again. 

“Alright. Guess you better get used to setting the table for two, then.” 

She tries not to question the pang in her chest when Lexa smiles that  almost -smile of hers. 

***

“Oh my God! Who is that?” 

Lexa sighs in defeat. “This is Mr. Rupert. I would appreciate it if you didn’t grab him like that. He’s not a toy.” 

“Sorry.” For once, Clarke actually feels a little guilty, because Lexa  is right – he’s a living creature and she just acted like a little kid who’s never seen a cat before. 

But god damn, he’s soft. And, when he carefully sits in front of her and studies her once she puts him down, she realizes exactly why his name is  Mr . Rupert. “He’s very handsome. With his tuxedo fur and those whiskers. Such a gentleman.” Lexa was clearly thinking along these lines when she put a bowtie on him. And the picture of Lexa doing that is too adorable not to imagine, so Clarke does just that. Oh, my God – she had to have shopped for the thing, too, hadn’t she? 

This is too cute.

“Thank you.” Clarke doesn’t know if it’s the ungodly hour playing tricks on her hearing, or Lexa  actually sounds flattered.  And flustered. 

She’s never claimed to be above mental high-fives. 

“How come I haven’t seen him when we walked in?” She also wonders why Lexa hasn’t mentioned having the cat. And then realizes that – why would she? They don’t talk about – things. They are not that kind of friends. Or any kind of friends, really. 

Lexa shrugs. “He rarely feels like greeting new people,” she says. “For good reason, too. Most insist on manhandling him like you just did.” 

She feels heat rise to her cheeks. “I’m sorry,” she mumbles again. 

“It’s okay. I know you won’t do it again.” Lexa clears her throat, then, and kneels, smiling when Mr. Rupert leisurely walks up to her and brushes against her legs. His luscious tail lazily curls around his body as he sits next to Lexa and gently nudges at her with his head, asking to be pet. Lexa immediately does, scratching at his ears and smiling wider when he purrs. “It’s more rewarding when they come to you first,” she softly says, and glances at Clarke. 

“Makes you feel special,” Clarke replies, just as softly, and her eyes never stray from Lexa’s. “Makes you feel worthy of something.” 

Green eyes flash with an emotion she can’t quite peg. Then, Lexa blinks, and it’s gone. “It’s affection from a cat,” she remarks, rising to her feet after one last gentle brush of her fingers through Mr. Rupert’s shiny fur. “Cute, undoubtedly, but not enough to determine self-worth. They are indifferent to most people. Nothing wrong with being like everyone else.” 

Mr. Rupert licks his paw before rubbing it over his handsome little face. Once, twice, and then he stretches, yawns, and walks away. “Yeah,” Clarke says, watching him till he rounds a corner and disappears from her view. “I guess. I’m more of a dog person, to be honest.” 

Lexa hums. “I’m generally an animal person,” she says. “But father’s allergic to dogs. I do wish I could get one. Maybe after college.” 

“Speaking of which, what’s your number one pick?” Clarke asks as she leans against the kitchen counter. 

“MIT.” 

Clarke whistles. “Damn, shooting for the stars. Second pick?” 

Lexa’s stare is unwavering. “There is no second pick. I got accepted last week.” 

“What?!” Clarke grabs at the counter, eyes widening. “You’re already… So you’re going to Boston?” 

“Cambridge,” Lexa corrects her calmly. “Yes. The next day after graduation. They offer a summer prep program and – honestly, I can’t wait to get out of here.” 

“So…”  So we only have two months left.  Clarke blinks at her thoughts. At the strange ache spilling through her chest.  There’s a good chance I won’t see her again after we graduate. Maybe at a high school reunion in ten years. Which she probably won’t attend. “Uh, wow. That’s awesome. Congratulations,” she says sincerely, because if anyone deserves to get into the school of their dreams, it’s Lexa. “And I feel you on getting the hell out of here as soon as possible. I’m still waiting for my acceptance letter.” 

“I’m sure you’ll get it,” Lexa tells her, and there’s something quietly encouraging about her tone that makes Clarke feel warm. “Where did you apply?” 

“Uh, Oregon State University,” she replies, feeling slightly self-conscious. It’s just – Lexa got into one of the top schools in the entire world, and Clarke’s applying for state school. It’s a good school, yes. But it’s no Harvard. Or freaking MIT. “Also Portland State University and SOU.” 

Lexa blinks. “But you said you want to get out of here.” 

“I mean, I’ll get out of this town, but I don’t need to flee the state,” Clarke chuckles. “Unless I kill someone, which still might happen. I have occasional rage.” 

Oh, how accustomed she’s already grown to the amused  almost-smile playing on Lexa’s lips. And too soon. Two months too soon. “That you do. I’ve seen it, and I do not wanna be on the receiving end of it. Your sharp wit is more than enough.” 

Clarke takes a deep breath, hating how warm her cheeks feel again. She doesn’t blush easily, and yet, around Lexa… “I, uh, I want to apologize, actually,” she says meekly. “For being such a bitch to you. You’re -- infuriating, sometimes,” she smirks, and Lexa smirks back. “But I shouldn’t snap at you all the time. It’s not cool. So – I’m sorry.” 

“I’ve done my fair share of snapping,” Lexa notes. 

“Never unprovoked, though.” 

“Sometimes. Once or twice.” Her smirk softens, then. “Thank you. I’m sorry, too. I will say, however, that I am not sorry about punching Jasper.” 

Clarke laughs. “Don’t be. That was kinda awesome, and totally deserved. But don’t go around punching people in college, though.” 

“I doubt anyone there is as annoying as your friend.” 

“Eh,” Clarke shrugs. “Friend is a strong word.” The closer their graduation is, the more she realizes she doesn’t really  have many of those. The only one she can truly call a friend is Raven. And Raven’s going to -- “Hey! Rae’s applied to MIT, too!” She can’t believe she  forgot about that. She can’t believe  that wasn’t her first thought when Lexa told her about MIT. Perhaps she’s the one who can’t be called a friend. “If you got your letter, maybe she did, too. Oh, man,” Clarke sighs, rubbing her forehead, “what if she didn’t get in?” 

“Reyes?” Lexa laughs. “Are you serious? She’s the valedictorian,  and she won almost every science fair there was to win in our entire state. She’s  miles better than me,” she says, and Clarke realizes her laughter wasn’t mocking. Just incredulous that Clarke would suggest something like that. “If I got in, so did she. It’ll be interesting,” she murmurs, more to herself. 

“Why?” 

Lexa shrugs. “Why not? We share a lot of classes now, but we don’t really talk, so I wonder if we will when we share a major.” 

“Wait,” Clarke feels progressively dumber as she realizes she knows nothing about Lexa. “You’re an engineer, too?” 

“Yeah.” Lexa doesn’t seem too fazed about it, though. More like… resigned. Or -- accepting. It’s like she’s made peace with the fact that they are two barely-acquaintances. And Clarke thinks she doesn’t like that. Deep in her chest, something dark and ugly shifts and raises its head, growling. “It’s more of a means, though. I mean – I would love to do that for the rest of my life, but I, uh…” She seems suddenly shy, a touch embarrassed. But there’s a childlike, awed wonder shining in her eyes that she can’t hide no matter how much Clarke’s willing to bet she tries. “I want to be an astronaut. Yeah, I know, I ‘ haven’t grown out of it’ , but…” 

“Hey,” Clarke smiles. “I want to become a doctor. One of the kid-favored jobs, too.” She shrugs. “I mean, as long as it’s not studying dinosaurs, you know?” 

Lexa laughs, and she watches her throw her head back, and her throat bop prettily, and thinks it won’t be the worst thing in the world to see that more often. Like,  every hour often. Or  every minute often, even. And it won’t be the worst thing in the world to always be the cause of that, either. 

If she had to pinpoint the moment she realized she was screwed, she’d pick this one – but the reality is she kind of always knew. Since seventh grade. Maybe earlier. Maybe, her whole life – maybe, even long before that. 

***

She was right. Spending her days with Lexa is strange. But it’s a very – exciting, nervous,  terrifying – good kind of strange. 

Lexa picks her up before sunrise. Lexa sacrifices her own, undoubtedly much more beneficial, runs to patiently crawl alongside a breathless Clarke. Lexa cooks her breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and doesn’t comment on her ungrateful sneers. Lexa, Lexa, Lexa. She’s everywhere, and she stays with her long after they bid each other goodnight; and Clarke’s discreet orgasms are both shameful and amazing. Wondering about the real thing is like that, too. 

Really, it’s a cliché - Lexa’s unavailable, which makes her all the more enticing. Or, perhaps, it’s Clarke who’s unavailable – for a simple fling, that is, which it undoubtedly would turn out to be if she were to act on it. Because she has eyes, and so does Lexa, and those pretty greens have strayed to places they shouldn’t unless her hands plan on following. Lexa wants her, and that’s not shocking. If anything, it’s expected. 

But there is an upsetting realization that she wants Lexa for something far more than that. Something she can’t have, because they only have a month and a half left before Lexa moves across the country and never looks back. 

For now, though, she can pretend. When Lexa cooks her breakfast and watches her eat and smiles her muted smile as she drives her to school and Clarke doesn’t ask her to stop a block away. 

***

“Are you doing this for Finn?” 

“No,” Clarke can’t stop a scowl at the mention of his name. “No, we’re -- I’m done with Finn. For good,” she adds when Lexa quirks a brow. Not that she can blame her. They are the famous high school on-off relationship made for teen drama tv shows. Were. “He cheated on me.” 

“I know.” Lexa’s gaze is pensive. “He’s a moron.”

“Yeah.” Because she doesn’t want to talk about Finn, she hurries to change to subject. Sorta. “Anyway, I’m doing this for myself. I wanna look good in the pictures.” 

“You already do.” From anyone else, this kind of insistence borders on annoying. From Lexa, it’s -- too many things to describe, really. Right now, it’s making Clarke want to kiss her. 

“Fine. Then I wanna look better.” 

Lexa’s grin is  almost predatory. “Impossible.” 

***

The thing she dreads and wants the most happens sooner than she thinks. 

Lexa’s eyes are wild and wide and dark, and seriously, how did they end up like this? This is, like. Totally not how she’s planned it in her head. She’s not sure she has any right to complain, though, when it feels so,  so insanely  good. 

If she knew a tentative attempt at massaging Lexa’s sore shoulder would lead to her being pinned against a door, she might’ve done this sooner. Or haven’t done it at all. 

She opens her mouth to try and form words, but all that comes out is a pitiful whine when Lexa twists her hand just  right , dragging her fingertips against her clit. 

Clarke’s brought back to earth when those long, maddening fingers slide lower, tentatively probing at her core before -- “Wait,” she pants, grabbing Lexa’s wrist and damn near suffocating when she freezes. “Wait, no. I’m-- I’ve never…” 

Green eyes widen with realization and understanding. Lexa stumbles back – or tries to, really, but Clarke doesn’t let her. “Wait,” she says, again. This time, however, the word is a plead of a different kind. “I don’t… I don’t want to stop.” 

Lexa’s expression is unreadable, but her fingertips are gentle as they dance across her sides. “Where do you want me?” She asks, quietly, and Clarke almost passes out. 

“Just… don’t go inside f-for now?” She squeaks, immediately hating how weak and scared she sounds. Yeah, she’s aware that virginity is a construct and all that, and she’s not  really a virgin since she’s had plenty of sexual experiences. But the thought of penetration is still scary for someone who’s never done that before. 

“We can stop,” Lexa suggests. Her voice is soft, and Clarke thinks she almost hates it, because it feels like  coddling.  But it’s Lexa, she tells herself. She doesn’t coddle. 

“I told you,” she breathes, sliding her hands up to her shoulders. “I don’t want to stop.” 

“Good. Neither do I.” 

***

“I don’t think I can look him in the eye now,” Clarke admits much, much later. She grins quietly when her attempt at shielding herself from Mr. Rupert’s mildly judgmental stare in the crook of Lexa’s neck brings forth a crystal laugh from the girl. 

“I doubt cats understand the human concept of sex,” she tells her. Then, her voice lowers, and softens, as if in embarrassment. “I, uh, looked into it a while back.” 

“Oh?” Clarke swallows the sudden, bitter lump in her throat as she teasingly raises her eyebrows at Lexa. “For purely scientific purposes, I suppose?” 

“That, and,” Lexa clears her throat, “I  did have a girlfriend, you know.” 

What about now  is right there, at the tip of her tongue, but she bites down on it, instead forcing a quick smile. “Right. Costia. How is she?”  Idiot, she thinks darkly when green eyes flash at her. 

“I wouldn’t know. We don’t exactly stay in touch.” 

“I’m sorry.” She should’ve known so much better than asking about her. But then again, she should’ve known better than falling in bed with Lexa. And yet… “She shouldn’t have done that, I think. Leaving without saying goodbye.” 

“You think?” Lexa snorts. “I don’t really want to talk about my ex when I’m with you.” 

“Oh.” Clarke fails to hide her happy, petty smirk. “I’m fine with that.” 

“I should hope so,” Lexa says, and rolls them over. Her quick grin fades into determination as she slides down Clarke’s body, and Clarke thinks this has got to be the most fabulous mistake she’s ever made. 

*** 

Her body feels different. Clarke’s not sure if it’s the physical changes or Lexa’s touch. Perhaps, it’s a combination of both. Only one of them is visible in the mirror, though. 

“Wow, dude. Have you lost weight?” 

“No beating around the bush, I see,” Clarke dryly remarks as she places her tray on the table and sits down. 

“I beat around the bush all the time, what are you talking about,” Raven grins, waggling her eyebrows before quickly sobering up. “Seriously, though. Is everything okay? You’re not, like, sick, are you?” 

Across the hall, Lexa’s listening to some girl’s excited chatter. The corners of her lips are hinting at that smile she’s so used to seeing when they are alone, and Clarke squeezes a fork in her fist. “Uh, no,” she distractedly replies to Raven. “No, I’m not sick, I’m just watching what I eat now.” 

“No kidding,” Raven snorts, suspicious, as she glances at Clarke’s tray. An apple and a bottle of water. “Clarke, are you sure you’re not sick? I’ve barely seen you eat lately.” 

Because after Lexa’s cooking she can’t even look at the cafeteria food, and breakfasts she makes are so filling she’s not really hungry till the school’s over. But she can’t tell Raven that, because they are supposed to dislike Lexa for a dumbass reason she can’t even remember now. Something about her pissing Bellamy off once. Going by that logic they should hate half the school. Although – don’t they? 

The girl’s touching Lexa’s arm lightly now, and Clarke doesn’t even realize she’s standing up until she hears her chair’s legs scrape the floor when she pushes it back. “Gotta go,” she mutters. “I, uh, forgot my… See ya.” 

“What? Clarke!” Raven calls after her, but she doesn’t stop. 

Her phone vibrates once she’s out of the cafeteria, indicating a new text, and she slows down to glance at it. 

Lexa: are you okay? you ran out pretty fast.

Ask your new girlfriend, she angrily types out before sighing and erasing it. Great. She’s jealous. Fucking fantastic. 

Clarke: im fine.

Lexa emerges from cafeteria seconds later, and her studying gaze makes her want to shrink. “You don’t look fine,” she comments, but Clarke doesn’t want to talk about it. Because there’s nothing to talk about. They’re parting ways for good in less than a month. 

Instead of replying, she grabs Lexa’s hand and drags her to a janitor’s closer. And if she laces their fingers on the way there, neither she nor Lexa mention it. 

***

Her friends hold an intervention. By her friends she means Raven, and by intervention she means barging into her house and demanding answers. 

“For the last time, I don’t have an eating disorder,” Clarke replies, exhausted. “FYI, you can’t pressure a person into admitting they do.” 

“Which is exactly what I’m doing,” Raven says slowly. Her dark eyes light up with realization. “A-ha! So you do have it!” 

“Rae,” she shakes her head. “Seriously. I’m fine. Physically, at least,” she mutters. Of course Raven picks up. But she wouldn’t have said that if she didn’t want her to. 

“What are you talking about?” 

Clarke takes a deep breath. “Short version – I’m in love with Lexa Woods.” 

It takes Raven several tries to get her mouth to work. “Uh. I think I need the director’s cut to understand how to react.” 

*** 

Just a few months ago, she couldn’t wait till graduation. Funny how tables turn, sometimes. 

The night before, she stays up till it’s time to go, in a desperate attempt to drag it out. 

“Smile, Clarke,” her mother orders her when she takes the pictures, without asking what’s wrong, and she swallows and does just that. She got what she wanted. Her dress is a little loose on her, even. The thought doesn’t bring the satisfaction she’s expected. Instead, it leads her to memories of Lexa gently instructing her, and her hands sliding down her back as she corrects her posture, and her lips on hers and her voice in her ear telling her how beautiful she’s always been to her. 

“Clarke?” Her mother sounds confused. “Are you -- crying?” 

“Just happy I’m done with this place,” she quietly replies, and her mom shrugs as she gives her a tissue. 

She feels awful about it, but she misses Raven’s speech because she just can’t concentrate on it. All she can think about it the girl she’s staring at, and how much she’s going to miss her; and how little Lexa knows about it. 

Lexa finds her in a sea of ecstatic graduates after the ceremony. “You look great,” she tells her quietly when she approaches. 

Clarke swallows. “Thanks. Really,” she adds, her smile widening. “Thank you. You’re the one who’s responsible for this.” She wonders if Lexa catches the double meaning. But why would she? “I’ll probably put everything back on when I’m in college.” 

Lexa shrugs. “It wouldn’t matter,” she says, her voice still soft. Her eyes shine with something Clarke’s terrified to read into. Wistful thinking has never worked out in her favor. 

So she nods, and makes herself smile. “So,” she says, loud. Too loud. “Leaving tomorrow, huh? Excited?” 

Lexa doesn’t smile. “I’m supposed to be.” Her jaw flexes. “And yet.” 

Before Clarke has a chance to demand she stop speaking in riddles, they are swept up in a hug from Raven. Clarke’s friends walk up to them next, and Lexa quickly excuses herself before the inevitable selfies. 

*** 

She doesn’t know why she wakes up at sunrise and trudges downstairs. It’s a habit that’s becoming a reflex, she supposes. A deep sigh, and she opens the door and walks out of the house. 

The sight of Lexa on her sidewalk, a suitcase at her feet, is beyond startling. She even pinches herself. That earns her an amused half-smirk. 

“What are you doing here?” She asks, in lieu of a greeting. 

Lexa shoves her hands in her pockets. “I don’t know,” she answers, truthfully. “I just know I didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye.” 

“You don’t owe me a goodbye,” Clarke notes. It’s not bitter, or angry. It’s honest, and a little wistful, and more than a little sad. 

“I know.” Lexa bites down on her lip, clearly contemplating something. Her eyes never stray away from Clarke’s; and in the forest green, she sees the exact same mix of desire and fear that resides in her chest. “I know. But I wish I did,” she mutters, hastily, and takes off towards Clarke, her steps quick and purposeful. 

*** 

“You’ll miss your flight,” Clarke whispers to her, when they catch their breath and the sun’s high in the sky. Her skin’s sticky with sweat, and so is Lexa’s, and she doesn’t care. 

Lexa gently rolls onto her side and slides down so she’s face to face with her. “I already did,” she grins sheepishly. “It’s fine, though. I’ll probably make the next one.” 

“Yeah, but – you’ll have to leave for that.” 

Lexa doesn’t chuckle at her pointing out the obvious. Only briefly closes her eyes and draws in a deep breath. “Yeah. Guess I will.” 

They so shouldn’t have done this, Clarke thinks once again. This only complicates things further. Before, they were just a high school fling parting their ways forever. Now – she doesn’t know what this is anymore. Lexa looks at her like nothing else  exists , and how is she supposed to get over her now? 

If this was supposed to be one last goodbye quickie in Lexa’s mind, she’s done a shit job, because there’s nothing final about this. 

Clarke’s the first one to look away, and she’s the first one to climb out of bed. “You gotta leave now, then,” she says, holding onto a sheet wrapped around her body. “I missed a couple of flights in the past, with my mom – most airlines have a two hour rule. If you don’t get there in,” she glances at her bedside clock, “half an hour, you’ll have to pay for the next one.” 

“I don’t care,” Lexa says quickly, but she can’t – she  can’t allow this to happen. She doesn't think she can handle it. 

“Well, I do,” she snaps, burrowing further into the thin sheet, suddenly cold. “You wanted to leave. As soon as possible. So leave.” 

“Clarke, you have to understand,” Lexa says, in a low voice, as she slowly rises to her feet. “I wanted to leave before…  you. Before this.” 

“This doesn’t change important things, okay?” She implodes, then, backing away when Lexa tries to come closer. “No, just – listen. You still want to go to MIT. And I’m still going to OSU. We can’t throw our future away over something we can’t even name.” 

Lexa takes a deep breath, steadying herself. Fists clenched, she looks like she wants to punch a wall – probably does, Clarke thinks. She can’t blame her. “We don’t have to. We  can  have a future. As in, one future. Singular.” 

“Yeah, I got that,” Clarke snorts. “Yet you still  can’t say it, can you?” 

“I want to be with you!” Now it’s Lexa’s turn to implode. Clarke appreciates the effort, really, and the dramatic timing is just right. The actual timing, though, couldn’t be worse. “I want to  be with you,” Lexa repeats, almost whispering. She looks… crumbled. Exactly the way Clarke’s heart feels. 

“Four years apart, Lexa,” she says, just as quietly. “Four years, and then med school for me, maybe grad school for you – possibly two different states again. I’ll have residency after that – once again, I don’t know where. All in all, what, nine years? More?” 

“I’ll follow you.” Lexa’s tone never rises as she stares at her. “Anywhere you wanna go after college. I’ll follow you.” 

“That’s…” She pauses, blowing out a huge sigh. It’s not something she’s expected her to say. “That’s a huge commitment, Lexa.” 

“One that I’m willing to make.” This time, she doesn’t recoil when Lexa reaches out and tentatively takes her hand in hers. “A commitment that I know I’ll be able to fulfill.” 

“I…” She has to pause again. And take her hand back, because Lexa’s touch and her ability to think clearly can’t co-exist. The tightening of Lexa’s lips when her hand slips out of hers hurt, but she does it anyway. “I don’t know if I will be able to. I – I don’t know if you can do this. Maybe you can. You’ve always managed to find a way to impress me,” she grins, but it’s pale. “But I think I  know that I can’t.” 

“You  think you know?” Lexa echoes, incredulous. “That’s--” 

“Lexa, I’m not  ready for a promise like that , ” she interrupts, shaking her head. “I’m not… If we were going to the same school, I would’ve said yes. I’d be the one  asking you. But we’re not, and neither one of us can afford to move for the other.” She sniffles, only now realizing there are tears streaming down her face. “And there’s nothing more I want than to say yes, Lexa, but it’s easy to promise myself to you high on feelings. But what about a week from now? A month? When we run out of things to talk about and it’s just… awkward silence half an hour a day?” Lexa doesn’t answer. She’s not moving, rooted to the spot, and her face doesn’t change when Clarke comes up to her, squeezing her hands. Her improvised sheet robe falls to the floor, but neither comment on that. “What if you meet a nice girl, and so do I, but we can’t do anything about it because we have an obligation? Because that’s what it’ll become. An obligation. And that’s a very easy thing to resent.” She meets her eyes, giving her a tight-lipped smile when she doesn’t look away. “I don’t want to resent you, Lexa. I mean, I tried, and failed – but this time, there’s a good chance of succeeding. So I’d rather…  remember this. You’ll be my beautiful almost.” 

“How poetic of you,” Lexa comments dryly. But her hands are still in Clarke’s, and she’s not looking away. 

“Guess I had a great source of inspiration,” Clarke smirks through her tears that Lexa wipes away. “See? This is beautiful. Romantic. It’s not tainted with dumb fights or awkward calls. It can be perfect. Something to remember.” 

“I got it,” Lexa says, a little exasperated. “You don’t need to keep driving the point home. I’m a nice memory.” 

“It’s not--” She’s interrupted by Lexa’s fingers pressed to her lips and her gentle shushing. 

“Don’t.” It’s soft, just like Lexa’s gaze. “I  get it. Just let me make the best of it.” 

She does end up having to buy the ticket to her new flight. Her text lets Clarke know it was worth it, and then, her number’s unavailable. 

*** 

The epicness of their goodbye is kind of ruined by the fact that Raven is Lexa’s new roommate. She swears it wasn’t on purpose and it must’ve been fate’s way to “make them idiots realize they are idiots”. Clarke’s not sure she believes her. Either way, hacked or not, the system can’t change it back, and she’s not about to ask Raven to go through the hassle of applying for a different roommate with no good reason just because she’s pathetic. She’ll deal with it. Should be easy enough. 

It’s nowhere near easy. Both of them realize that during the first week, when Lexa answers Raven’s phone. 

“I had to watch Grey’s Anatomy all by myself today and I made myself sad and I miss your face,” Clarke blurts out as soon as the phone is picked up. The momentary silence on the other end makes her blink. “Rae?” 

She hears a clearing of a throat, and that’s decidedly not Raven. “Uh,” and just like that, her heart’s ready to jump out of her chest. “I know that wasn’t meant for me, but… I would be lying if I said I don’t. Miss you face, that is.” 

“Lexa,” she breathes out, clutching the phone harder. “Why… Where’s Raven?” 

“She forgot her phone,” Lexa explains, with a quiet, tense sigh. “And, um, it’s a new phone, she didn’t name her contacts yet, so – I thought it was her calling and trying to find it. That’s why I picked up. I’ve never seen Grey’s Anatomy.” 

“I know. You told me.” Memories of when and how she’s told her and what happened after, and before, have her shaking her head, as if trying to get rid of them. “How… How are you?” 

“I’m okay,” Lexa replies, slowly. “I don’t know if you know, but… I changed my number.” 

“Oh. I, uh, wouldn’t know.” 

“Oh. Well, I don’t know why I’m telling you this.” Lexa’s small smile is audible in her voice. “You caught me completely off guard.” 

“Tell me about it.” They become quiet after that, and Clarke slowly exhales. Here it is. Awkward silence. She almost wants to gloat. “Well,” finally, she decides to be the one to break out of it. “Please tell Raven I called.” 

“I thought I’d never talk to you again.” Lexa’s voice is small, and sad, and Clarke bites her lip to stop a trembling sigh from getting out. 

“Lex, don’t -- do this, okay?” She pleads. “Besides, don’t you think it’s a little overdramatic? You’re roommates with my best friend. Of course we were gonna talk again sooner or later. Guess it’s sooner.” 

“I’m just saying,” Lexa sighs on the other end, and Clarke can picture her pinching the bridge of her nose, eyes closed, as she carefully chooses her words. “I thought you’d never wanna talk to me again, and that thought sucked. Because I do miss you. Not  us, or whatever it was, but  you. Just talking to you. Training with you. Hanging out with you.” 

She shakes her head, forgetting Lexa can’t see her. “What do you mean?” 

“I want to try and stay friends, Clarke,” she’s smiling again. Clarke can hear it. “I’m still a part of your life, in the most ironic way possible. Why not make it enjoyable?” 

“I wouldn’t say it’s  the most ironic way,” she mutters. Lexa laughs. 

“We’re both friends with Raven. Wouldn’t hurt to try and be civil with each other.” 

“I can do civil. But I don’t know about friends.” 

“Well.” She can almost see Lexa shrug. “Sounds like a start of a beautiful friendship to me.” 

“No wonder you don’t have many of those.” 

“ Ouch . Was that a friendly jab, Griffin?” 

She scoffs, but a smirk is already forming on her lips. “More like a punch. And don’t call me Griffin. It’s weird.” 

“I need a friendly nickname for you to defuse any remaining sexual tension between us.” 

“Oh. Then do feel free to call me that. Instant boner killer.” 

“Alright.” She wishes she could see Lexa right now, because that grin sounds enormous. Perhaps there are some… other reasons she wishes she could see her for. But she’s not allowed to think of those. Especially now, after Lexa’s offer. “I have to go now, so… Talk to you some other time,  Griffin. ” 

“You know what, I change my mind, Woods, no more last names.” 

“I’ll think about it.” Lexa’s chuckles fade as her voice grows softer, and Clarke just  knows this is a bad idea. “Bye, Clarke.” 

“Bye,” she whispers long after Lexa hangs up, and stares at the falling leaves as she listens to dial tone. 

*** 

Her self-control weakens around holidays the. She notes that after she gorges on Christmas leftovers. And sleeps with Lexa. Really, though, it’s Lexa’s fault. Did she  have to stare at her like that and tell her she looked gorgeous and just – be her annoyingly perfect self? 

“That’s not a very friendly thing to do,” she tells her, breathless, when Lexa emerges from between her legs, obscenely licking her lips and smirking her infuriating, smug smirk. 

“I believe you have it a little backwards. This is  too friendly of a thing to do,” she points out as she crawls up her body. Clarke thinks she really wants to punch her to shut her up. But she guesses a harsh kiss will have to do. 

“I missed you,” Lexa quietly admits later; much later, when they are both naked and breathless and spend, holding onto each other under the blanket with a ridiculous snowman print on it. 

“Lexa,” she sighs, trying to push her away. “We’re not doing this.” 

“I’m not doing anything,” Lexa protests, grasping onto her. “I’m just telling you I missed you. Friends do that.” 

“Yeah, but friends don’t do  this. ” 

She’s shocked to see Lexa clumsily waggle her eyebrows at her. “Really good friends do.” 

“Raven’s a terrible influence on you,” she deadpans, but stops trying to stand up and sighs, instead rolling onto her side and placing her head on Lexa’s chest. “This wasn’t a good idea,” she continues, quieter. “How am I supposed to get over you?” 

She thinks she hears Lexa’s breath catch in her throat, and feels her freeze, but when she looks up, Lexa’s face is stoically calm. “I missed you,” she repeats. “And you missed me. And now, you’re overthinking this, and I need you to stop.” 

“How am I overth--”

“That,” Lexa whispers when she pulls away after a short, deep kiss. “Right here. This is you overthinking this. Let’s just… let things happen however they happen. Okay?” 

“I can’t do this.” 

Green eyes close, briefly, before Lexa replies in a tired voice. “Well – fine. Then let’s just have this night, at least. Tomorrow, we go back to tentative friendship.” 

Clarke’s not sure she can go back. But Lexa’s gaze is soft and heated at the same time, and her hands are gentle and greedy and know exactly where to touch, and so she tells herself it’s only for tonight when she surrenders. 

The next morning, Lexa makes her pancakes and doesn’t comment on the amount of syrup she pours over them or the fullness of her cheeks; and later, they run outside and start a snow fight and laugh and laugh and laugh until they’re kissing against the tree and stumbling back inside, tearing clothes off and seeking each other’s warmth. 

But winter break ends, Clarke’s heart shatters all over again. She wipes at her cheeks while her mother drives, and angrily clenches her fists as she watches her house grow smaller in the rearview mirror, and promises herself it’s the last time.

*** 

She doesn’t answer Lexa’s calls and texts for a week. 

***

“I think I met someone.” 

“An unconventional greeting.” Lexa’s voice is perfectly neutral. She guesses her face is, too; frozen, cut from marble, and not real at all. “Do they make you happy?” 

Clarke swallows, hard. “I think she will.” 

“Then I’m glad.” She imagines her breathing, even and deep, as she clutches the phone. “Would you like me to stop calling you?” 

“At least for now,” Clarke whispers, hating the way she feels. Like she just took a knife and rammed it in Lexa’s back. She’s not supposed to feel that way. She refused Lexa exactly so she wouldn’t feel that way when she inevitably screwed up. And it didn’t work. “At least…”  until I move on.

“Well,” Lexa exhales. “You have my number. Goodbye, Clarke.” 

*** 

She’s drunk next time she calls Lexa. “This isn’t supposed to be like this,” she blurts out, accusatory, when she picks up. 

“What?” Lexa replies sleepily. “Clarke, where are you?” 

“In my room,” she mumbles, lying down and rubbing her forehead. Her head’s spinning, but there’s a good chance she won’t throw up tonight. “It’s spinny.” 

“Are you drunk?” Lexa sounds a lot more alert now. Or not. Clarke doesn’t think she’d be able to tell the difference at the moment. “Are you okay, are you hurt?” 

“What if I am? You’ll fly out here from Boston?” 

“That’s not fair.” Lexa says quietly. “Are you okay?” 

“I guess,” Clarke shrugs. Bad idea. Too much movement. “Kinda. I broke up with my girlfriend. I think.” 

Lexa exhales, slowly and soundly. “I’m sure you’ll work it out tomorrow,” she tells her. Clarke wonders if she’s flexing her jaw in irritation at the mention of her girlfriend. An awful part of her really, really hopes so. 

“I’m not sure we were dating to begin with,” she replies, truthfully. “It just didn’t… feel right.” It didn’t feel even remotely close to what she’s felt with Lexa. She wisely chooses not to mention that. “Guess she’s not the one.”

“Then I’m sure you’ll find someone else.” 

“Yeah?” She kicks off her boots and groans as she stretches out on the bed. “What if I did and I let her slip  right through my sausage fingers?” 

“You don’t have sausage fingers,” Lexa says, exasperated. 

“Not the point.” 

She listens to silence for so long she has to check if Lexa’s disconnected. But she finally speaks. “I don’t think you want to have this conversation.” 

“I called you, didn’t I?” 

“Yeah. Drunk.” Lexa sighs. “Go to sleep, Clarke. We’ll talk in the morning if you still want to.” 

“That’s the thing, though, Lex,” she laughs, but it’s humorless. “Tomorrow, I’ll chicken out. Like I usually do.” 

“Don’t say something you’ll--” 

“I  want you, okay? I still want you. I don’t know how to make it happen, but I want you, and I hate that I can’t have you.” She sighs, loudly. “There. How’s that for saying something I’ll regret.” 

“Fits the definition perfectly, actually,” Lexa quips, in an exhausted voice. “You’ll hate me tomorrow.” 

“I could never hate you. Even when I tried. You’re completely unhateble to me.” 

“We’ll see tomorrow. When you block my number and don’t call ever.” 

“Really?” She rolls her eyes, annoyed Lexa can’t see her. That was one perfectly executed eye roll. “A girl tells you she wants you and that’s all you can say?” 

Lexa’s chuckles are strangely amused. She expected her to be a lot gloomier about this. They are changing, after all. Growing up and becoming different people. Separately. “I didn’t think there was a point in saying something you already know.” 

“Humor me.” 

“Fine. I want you. So bad it hurts sometimes.  All the time.” She holds her breath as she waits for Lexa to continue, but she doesn’t. So she speaks up next. 

“I wish you were here. So I could kiss you. And hold you.” 

“Clarke.” Lexa sounds pained, now. She hates she’s the one responsible for this. At the same time, though, she’s just happy to let it all out. It’ll feel terrible tomorrow, probably, but right now, she doesn’t care. And she doesn’t think she can stop now that she’s opened that box. “You’re not being fair. Tomorrow, it’ll all be gone.” 

“Yeah?” She sits up, abruptly, suddenly fired up. Not a smart move on her part – she has to hold onto the wall to steady herself and suppress the lurch of her stomach. But she powers through. “How about we bet on it? The only thing I like more than kissing you is proving you wrong.” 

“What a healthy relationship we’d have,” Lexa deadpans, making Clarke giggle. 

“You’re funny. You always make me laugh. Seriously, though. Let’s bet. If I call you tomorrow, I win. If I don’t, you win.” 

“Seems like I lose either way.” 

Clarke bites her lip as she smiles. It could be alcohol – probably is – but she feels so,  so light, and free, and warm. Something’s changing between them. And she’s the one initiating that change. All she needs to do is remember this feeling in the morning. That’s all she needs to do. “Smooth. As always. Okay, how about this – the loser owes the winner a massage.” 

“Clarke,” Lexa laughs quietly. “Tomorrow you’ll be so terrified of me you won’t touch me with a ten-foot pole, let alone give me a massage.” 

“You’ll get a pole massage, then,” Clarke shrugs, enjoying Lexa’s soft chuckles. “Also. You’ve severely overestimating how drunk I am. I just pronounced  overestimating. ” 

“Impressive.” 

“So. What do you say?” She wiggles out of her jeans, panting through her teeth. “You in?” 

“Um. What are you doing?” 

“Undressing,” Clarke simply says. “Why, you thought I was touching myself to the sound of your voice? Actually, that’s not a bad idea,” she muses, pensive. 

“Clarke, no,” Lexa practically pleads. “ Very bad idea. I’m in, just don’t -- do that.”

“What? Like  you haven’t thought about phone sex with me?” 

Lexa’s quiet for a long time. “Have you?” She asks, then, finally, and Clarke feels a victorious grin spread across her face. 

“Guess you’ll find out tomorrow,” she drawls out. “Stay tuned.” 

“Clarke--” before Lexa can voice her protests, she hangs up, smirking the entire time. Everything’s a little blurry and her head’s spinning faster, but she hasn’t felt this good in a long time. And she’s just went through an actual break up with her actual girlfriend. Well. Ex-girlfriend. Except she wasn’t Lexa, and that was part of the problem. 

She makes herself stand up and sloppily wash her face. Before she lies back down, she grabs a pen and scribbles a messy note for herself, leaving it on the table. Then, with a sense of deep satisfaction, she stumbles to her bed, plops onto it, and promptly passes out. 

*** 

Call Lexa. You love her.

She reads the words over and over, the entire day, staring at it in class and at lunch and while walking around campus. 

*** 

“You did have a flair for drama,” Lexa tells her in lieu of greeting when she calls her exactly one minute before midnight. 

“Maybe I wanted to get your hopes for a ten foot pole massage up before crushing them,” Clarke replies. She’s not sure her joke lands, because of how nervous she sounds, and feels. Her hands are clammy, for fuck’s sakes. 

But Lexa laughs, and something about the poorly concealed relief in that sound is absolutely liberating. “In that case, well done.” 

*** 

They talk all night long, about nothing in particular. In the end, they come to an agreement, of sorts. A trial period of free months, to see if they can pull this long distance recipe for disaster off. Clarke might still have some trepidation about this. But she has to at least try, because she tried  not trying and  awful doesn’t quite cut it. 

“It’ll be rough,” Lexa both warns and promises when they are about to hang up. 

“I’ve never been more sure of something in my life.”

***

They spend their first college summer break on the road. It’s sunsets and sunrises and cheap motel rooms and old songs on the old radio of Clarke’s old Ford. It’s a dream she doesn’t want to wake up from. Lexa’s caught in the last red rays of sun with sunglasses perched on top of her head as she drives anywhere the road will take them. Her eyes stray from the road every so often, glancing at Clarke and grinning when she finds her staring. Clarke’s eyes never leave her. 

Their third night together in a roadside motel, Clarke slowly guides Lexa’s hand lower as she arches into her, and watches green eyes widen when she feels her where she wants her the most. 

“Clarke,” Lexa chokes, gaze frantically flying all over her face. “We’re… in a seedy motel in the middle of nowhere, are you -- sure?” Her fingers don’t stop, however – Clarke thinks she won’t be able to stop them – and the caresses are maddening, igniting a fire they can’t put out unless they push  in.

“We’ve had sex before, silly,” she whispers with a smile. “This is just… a different way.” 

“Yeah, but you were…”  scared, Clarke finishes silently when Lexa trails off. Yes. But not anymore. Not when Lexa’s looking at her like she’s the only thing that’s ever mattered. 

“Here’s the thing,” she starts, a little breathlessly because, well, there’s a naked Lexa on top of her equally naked self and those talented fingers—“I don’t need it to be special. But it still will be because,” she pauses, swallowing and making herself look Lexa in the eye. “Because it’s with you.” 

“Clarke…” Lexa sounds unsure, still. But she also sounds awed, and soft, and damn near reverent, and Clarke  needs her to have her in the way only she can. 

“Please, just – take me like this,” she almost begs, in a rushed whisper. “Just – be with me.”

Lexa nods, and kisses her, and does exactly that. It feels uncomfortable more than anything – being stretched in an unfamiliar way. But Lexa’s slow, and gentle, and carefully watching her as she moves inside her and discovers her anew. 

“Did you?...” She asks in a whisper after Clarke weakly grabs her hand to still her movements when the pleasure gets overwhelming. 

“No,” she pants. “No, I don’t… think, but… It felt pretty damn good,” Lexa’s shy smirk mirrors hers when she opens her eyes, locking them with endless green. “Felt incredible.” 

“It felt amazing. You felt amazing,” Lexa murmurs to her, leaving slow kisses along her neck. “There’s some place I need to be, though.” 

Clarke frowns. “What? Where in the hell can you possibly –  oh ,” she cuts herself off with a surprised sigh when Lexa starts descending down her body, a wolfish grin playing on her lips. “Oh.  That . Okay,” she breathes, grasping at the cheap sheets so she doesn’t grab Lexa’s hair. Last time, she tore some out.

“Loving the enthusiasm,” Lexa chuckles, just before she dives in. Moments later, Clarke gets the chance to show her just how enthusiastic she is. 

Lexa holds her when she’s completely and utterly spent, and murmurs her praises as she drifts off to sleep.

***

She's been planning her transfer for almost half a year. The hardest part was hiding it from Lexa. But all of her hard work pays off the minute she sees Lexa’s shocked face. 

“Clarke, what… What?” She blinks, eyes wide, as she stares at her. “I -- you said you were getting coffee.” 

She shrugs. “I am.” Lexa doesn’t move when she raises two cups, giving her one. “You wouldn’t shut up about this place, so I thought I’d check it out.” 

Lexa’s lips begin to form a shocked, happy smile. “You decided to visit so soon? I’m not complaining.” She quickly walks up to Clarke, enveloping her in a tight hug as she breathes her in. “It’s been two days and I miss you like crazy,” she quietly murmurs in her hair. “I’ve been looking at plane tickets, but you beat me to it.” 

Clarke allows herself to melt in her embrace for a little while. She’ll tell her. Any second now. And they might get into a fight. So maybe not any  second now. Maybe any  minute now. 

“Wait,” Lexa pulls away, taking a step back, her brows furrowing in confusion. “ How exactly are you here? Are you missing your first week?” 

Clarke draws a deep breath. Well, here goes nothing. “Actually, school starts next week.” 

“Oh.” Lexa seems to accept that, but her frown doesn’t dissipate. “Did they move the dates this year?” 

“Well, no. School has already started at OSU. Boston University, though…” She trails off into a sheepish smile. 

It takes Lexa a split second to figure it out, and Clarke winces when green eyes harden. “You transferred. And didn’t tell me.” 

“I, uh, am telling you now?” Clarke tries. Lexa’s face stays frozen. She breaks first. “Please don’t be mad. I wanted to surprise you, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, but--” 

“God, Clarke,” Lexa shakes her head, and gently cups her cheeks as she rests her forehead against hers. “Do you have  any idea how much I’ve missed you? How awful it felt to watch you drive away? And all this time,” she chuckles. “All this time, I didn’t actually have to say goodbye to you again. I have no words.” 

“I’m sorry,” Clarke says again, pitifully. 

“I’ll be mad at you later,” Lexa mutters. “Right now, I really need to kiss you.” 

*** 

“Can you imagine the story we’ll tell our kids? Of how we ended up together?” 

“We’re the classic high school sweethearts. It’ll be easy.” 

“Right.  Or , you’ll have to tell them about how I forced you to help me lose weight and then I became hot and you banged me.” 

“Okay, first, I’m never telling our children about our sex life. That’s just wrong. Second, you didn’t  become hot, you always were. Third, I’ve dreamed of ‘banging’ you since the day I met you.” 

“Seventh grade? And  that’s not wrong?” 

“Puberty, Clarke. Besides, I saw the way you looked at me back then. Pots and kettles, baby.” 

“Whatever. Kiss me already.” 

“I don’t know. I’m kind of not supposed to see you before the wedding.” 

“In my  dress. As you may have noticed, I’m not wearing one right now. Or any clothes, for that matter. Lexa? Oh, come on. You can’t  still get distracted by my boobs. Lex-- ah !” 


End file.
